Remember
by Mirwalker
Summary: Because sometimes the only path forward is to forget the past. (1970s. An explanation for Stephen's unexplained disappearance after Series 4.)
1. Prologue

_**Tomorrow People**_ **(1970s):**

 **Remember**

by Mirwalker

 **NOTES:** _This story is set after Series 4 (_ One Law _and_ Into the Unknown _), to explain Stephen's sudden and unexplained disappearance from the series' universe_ _._

* * *

 **Prologue**

By this wet Thursday evening, it had already been a long week for Alec Robinson. Between election rumbles, two celebrity scandals, and an upcoming football special, he'd been run ragged supporting, if not actually reporting for, the daily paper's news coverage. Leaving the Tube stop with hundreds of others heading home, he too was tired from the day's toil, and also still thinking on projects unfinished, and dinner yet to be made that night. Well, in his case, his mother would handle dinner, and he, just the washing up afterwards. In fact, he supposed, listening to his father opine about the news and state of the world would be the hardest part of home life facing him today.

Interrupting that tepid anticipation, a large hooded figure brushed past him, nearly knocking him over.

While rude, the bump was not uncommon on the crowded streets of London. In fact, Alec wouldn't have thought much of it, had another, smaller figure not done the same thing just seconds later.

"Sorry," the young Anglo man said, thoughtfully catching Alec's arm so that he didn't fall, as he continued his ongoing conversation… to no one specific, "It's getting harder to keep up in the crowd. Does anyone else have her?"

Irritated by the impact, if appreciative of the passing concern for his safety, Alec turned to find the man looking back at him as well. Both seemed surprised at the other's attention; but the crush of people closed in between them quickly, as everyone continued on their way.

When the _third_ person in less than a minute collided with him, Alec was both annoyed and now curious. That the Black woman hurried away in the same direction as the others, dodging on-comers, gave him the distinct impression that the three against-the-crowd walkers were somehow connected, and that something interesting was afoot.

Snapped, perhaps bruised, from his weary commute, Alec was intrigued. While only a copy clerk at the paper, he wanted to be a full-on investigative reporter; and following those professional instincts, he forgot the long day and looming dinner, and turned to follow.

Hurrying upstream, he finally reached the scattering edge of the crowd, and caught sight of the woman turning at mid-block. Careful not to hit any stragglers himself, he jogged to that corner and peaked around it. About three quarters of the way down the empty alley, the woman silently looked at some sort of device in her hands, before heading into a farther doorway.

Looking about to find no other apparent followers, Alec carefully picked his way down the alley, continuing his own entry in the chase. Following only the occasional click of heel on bricks, the whir of startled pigeons, and the echo of a heavy breathing, Alec knew he was still on the trail, but quickly was lost in what became a dim maze of tiny passages between the tall buildings.

Growing bolder, or perhaps more frantic, with each new twist and vacant passage, his careful steps were fast becoming long strides, and then a jog. The man who'd bumped him had been talking to someone; perhaps the woman with the radio. Why had they stopped talking now? Surely in these tight spaces, where the prey could disappear, or appear, around any corner and at any moment, the pursuers needed to coordinate all the more! And beyond the obvious thrill of the chase, why was he growing so tense despite nothing's having appeared?

Rounding the next corner, Alec first realized he'd reached a dead-end. He realized second, that he was not the only person to have done so. For between him and the high brick wall, was the broad back of the original runner to have bumped him on the street.

Turning as it sniffed the air, the figure's hood fell away, exposing the curved horns and flaring nostrils of a bull's head. On finding Alec between it and the only exit, the massive and entirely un-imaginary beast snorted, stomped, and then came barreling toward him.

* * *

 _tbc... Please 'follow' for updates!_


	2. Intersections

_**Tomorrow People**_ **(1970s):**

 **Remember**

by Mirwalker

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Intersections**

While certainly surprised by the man-bull's appearance and charge, Alec was frozen in place by its angry and fast-approaching stare. With no way to outrun, and nowhere in the alley to dodge, the solo stampede, he could only throw his arms up over his face and open his mouth to shout his last.

But the scream and impact materialized as more a grunt and roll, when something smaller knocked him to the ground and side before he could be trampled. Covered by whatever had hit him, Alec was oddly comforted even though he could only hear strange whooshing noises around him, along with a loud, drowsy bellow rolling through the confined space.

"Again! Again!" he heard shouted along with a gentle chiming and hurried footsteps from several directions, followed by even more whooshing. Yet the deep bass grumbling still came slowly, but surely closer.

"Stephen, look out!" several voices cried, just before Alec's leg burned as something cut deeply into it with a thunderous thud, and silence finally settled on the scene.

The saving figure on top of him lurched at his cry, rolling onto his side and revealing the anguished face of the polite young interceptor from what seemed hours ago. Clear that Alec was in pain despite the attempt to save him, the presumable Stephen glanced down toward Alec's legs, where two other people had gathered anxiously, each with some sort of pistol in hand.

"Is he awright?" a Cockney accent asked from somewhere beyond Alec's prone and pained line of sight. "Caw! He's been gored!"

"Not helping, Mike," the apparent leader chided. "Agent Flill, the Sap's been injured; is it safe to move _her_?"

"Let's get these restraints on first."

A new electrical hum filled the air, as Alec's leg throbbed and burned with the new movement. He must have groaned or flinched, as Stephen looked back, placed a warm hand on his forehead and smiled, "You'll be fine, Alec. I just need you to lie very still for a moment more…"

The pain in his leg disappeared almost instantly with Stephen's touch; and it seemed no time or bother at all before the voice called Flill announced, "She's bound."

"Alright, everyone," ordered the tall man, as he and the woman put out their hands. "Up, then away at this angle, on my count of three. Slowly."

"Alec, I need you to look at me," Stephen said, not shifting his touch or focus from the injured man. "They'll get you free; but you must lie perfectly still. So just look at me and don't move; you'll be fine."

Alec nodded bravely, searching his memory for how this face, this person seemed to know him, to know his name, while being somehow both a complete stranger and so calmingly familiar. Just then, the great form on his opposite side moved; and the pain in his leg flared briefly. Stephen grimaced as he did, before a look of concentration replaced it; and a warm light in his eyes washed away the pain.

Distracted at first by Stephen's attention, Alec barely noticed that the bull was being flipped on its—her?—back, and pulled away from him. He also barely noticed that none of the figures was actually touching her, just moving their hands in the direction she nonetheless moved.

"How are they doing that?" he finally managed to ask, wiggling one hand in disbelief toward the man, woman, and now visible Cockney youth, along with three others wearing odd, almost shimmering suits.

"Can you sit up?" Stephen asked and helped him, ignoring the scene beyond.

"I think so," Alec said haltingly, finally able to take stock of his spilled bag, ripped and bloodied trousers, and the unbelievable scene of a prone, track-suited bull with glowing bands around its—her—body.

"Don't heal it entirely, Stephen," the tall man instructed, finally sparing some attention back to the less remarkable human. "He'll need some explanation for the torn slacks and blood."

Alec looked down, finally piecing together that he had been stabbed by the bull-thing's horn as it collapsed, but that the deep cut was shrinking rapidly under Stephen's… _glowing_ hand. "Hey!" he exclaimed as it all sank in, "What's going on? What _was_ that?" Steadying himself on Stephen's shoulder, he suddenly felt very overwhelmed by the rush of impossible images, actions and emotions.

"Sorry," Stephen looked over at him, apologizing both for both the residual gash he was leaving on the leg, and the larger trauma. "We've been trying to catch a fugitive; and it seems you got caught up in the pursuit."

"But that's a… a…," Alec struggled to make sense of even _part_ of his situation, pointing to what he could best understand as a labyrinth monster from Greek legend.

"It's technically a _mego_ taur," Stephen understood and corrected. "She's just young. And she's not supposed to be here."

"Because they're imaginary," Alec completed the obvious explanation.

"Because Earth is a closed world," Stephen corrected again, with a knowing, but non-judgemental smile.

"What?" Alec started, before clutching his head in both pain and insight. "Wait! Minotaurs don't exist. Closed worlds? That one has… gills!" he pointed to Flill, before making his most startling realization. "And when you talked to each other, sometimes your mouths didn't move!"

"He is growing hysterical," the lead Agent seemed to sigh through her gills as she came closer. Pulling something from her belt, she leaned over and pointed it at Alec's face.

"Hey!" reacted Alec and the near enough Stephen, as a sparkling mist sprayed across them both.

"What have you done?" demanded Elizabeth, as the two boys spat and wiped, and Alec slumped back against Stephen. "What is that?"

"It's a simple mnemonophage," Flill explained with complete detachment, "no harm done."

"A what?" Mike asked.

"A memory virus," she explained. "This one is specifically engineered as a short term memory wipe for your 'Saps,' to protect them from knowledge they shouldn't have. When he comes to, he'll have forgotten the last half-hour or so by your measures; but will otherwise be fine."

"What about Stephen?" asked John, as that unintended target sputtered and wiped his eyes, but didn't lose consciousness himself, or let Alec loll to the ground.

"No effect on telepaths, or megotaurs," Flill sighed again. Turning back to their prisoner, she refocused her team's priorities. "Now, we have to get the fugitive to the transport site."

"What about Alec?" Stephen asked, nodding to his friends that he was well enough, and hadn't forgotten their interloper.

"'Alec'?" John asked, before seeing Stephen nod to the groggy young man. "Did you make introductions during the chase?"

"I don't know; he must have said it at some point…"

"It's here on a few of his thing as well," Elizabeth pointed out, as she collected them back into the messenger bag.

"Regardless, we can't just _leave_ him, on the street!"

"The Galactic Federation agents said he'll be fine," reminded Mike.

"Even still, Stephen's right…," Elizabeth insisted with no small displeasure at the others' disregard, helping the merely damp telepath ease the sleeping Alec back to the ground.

" _We_ have to see the agents get the prisoner, and themselves, away with no more impact on the Saps," John prioritized. "Besides if we're here when he wakes, that's just more chance of being pulled into explanations or investigations…"

"I'll stay with him," Stephen held his ground. "He'd seen me already, back at the Tube station. I'll make sure he's alright, _without_ getting caught up in anything formal. And then meet you all back at the Lab, quick as I can."

As Mike headed off to help levitate the prisoner, Elizabeth handed over Alec's bag with a smile, "That's a wonderful idea, Stephen. Very kind and responsible… Come along John; I think Mike's enthusiasm is _our_ biggest menace now."

* * *

"Alec? Alec? Can you hear me? Are you alright?"

An unfamiliar face gradually came into focus, as did the sky, which was oddly _behind_ the young man. An unexpected dull ache in his leg also announced itself. "What's happened?" Alec asked, as the stranger helped him right the sky by sitting up.

Seeing Alec upright and finally engaging, the man settled against the wall beside him and pointed to the sidewalk just beyond them. "We bumped into each other, outside the Tube station, a few minutes ago. You stumbled and must have scratched yourself on something," he pointed to a tear and some blood on Alec's calf. "Soon as you saw blood, you…," he rolled his eyes back in pantomime explanation.

"Funny; I'm normally fine with it," Alec protested groggily, with a little embarrassment at the allegation.

"So's my dad, unless it's his own," the man smiled, clearly trying to lighten the potential ego bruise.

"How long…?"

"Just a few minutes, I think. I pulled you off the thoroughfare there. I felt bad for the run-in; and didn't want you to get more hurt underfoot."

"That's very kind. I don't know that most folks would've done more than been irritated," Alec appreciated, as the man smiled humbly, before realizing they'd hit each other. It had been a _two_ person accident! "Were _you_ hurt?

"I'm afraid you got the worst of it." Alec must have looked concerned, as Stephen gave him another reassuring smile. "And as you've been on the wet pavement long enough, we should get you home. Can you stand?"

"I think so." Alec took the proffered hand, and slowly got to his feet. Teetering from lingering lightheadedness and a very sore leg, Alec balanced on the firm grip that didn't let him slip. Gradually testing more and more weight on his leg, he found he could take a few steps unsupported, if slowly and painfully. "Tah. I think I'm good; just need to be careful and take me time."

Originally intending just to ensure the Sap would be fine, Stephen now didn't feel he was ready merely to trust so. The crisis passed, he could spare a few minutes more. "Where were you heading? I'll walk with you."

"No need," Alec shook his head as he lied. "You've already…"

"For my sake, if not yours," Stephen insisted, shouldering Alec's bag. "You've already had the worst of our encounter. It's the least I can do. Please?"

Nodding at the plea and his own pleasure for the help and company, he stuck out his hand, "I'm Alec."

"Stephen," the introduction was completed; and they headed out, Stephen keeping a careful eye on his companion's speed and stability.

"It's not far," the limper narrated, "but I do need to make a quick stop." Showing more sureness with each step, he hobbled over to the newsagent stand at the corner.

"Everything alright, Alec?" the older woman inside the kiosk asked with motherly concern, as she handed over a stack of folded papers. "You're later than usual today, and look a little… ruffled, I daresay."

"Well enough, thanks, Misses Olsin. Strange day's all," he explained as best he could, counting out a few coins for her.

"Best to your mum and dad, then," she smiled warmly, as the next customer stepped up.

"Not coming home with these would truly end the day badly," Alec smiled as he waved on his new acquaintance. "Just a block from the house; but it's my chore to fetch them every day."

"Fetch?"

"For my dad. He's just retired, and relishing it for now. Not sure my mum's as keen on him being home all day, every day."

Stephen smiled cheekily, "Maybe she'd take the errand, just to get out herself?'

"I'll have to suggest that," Alec laughed back. "Though I'll bet they'd both point out that 'papers are _my_ business…"

"You're a writer? A journalist?" That would explain the many notepads in the bag, and perhaps his nosing into their chase earlier. It could also mean trouble, if he learnt too much, or got too interested or involved in the Tomorrow People. _Shame…_

"Noooo," Alec pointed them down a side street. "Not yet, not by a long shot. I just run tea and post to reporters, mostly. But I'm working hard, meeting people, and learning what I can." His eagerness was clear, even as his smile dropped a little at pointing to one of the rowhomes they were passing. "This is me."

"Are you sure you'll be OK?" Stephen asked, passing back the bag as they stood before the few stairs.

"No worse than I was before, I expect," Alec laughed a little awkwardly. "Thank you again for staying with me, and seeing me home. Would you like to come in? I know there'll be more than enough tea for four; and I feel I owe you something, a supper at least…."

"Thanks, but I have to be getting back myself. And no worries; it was my pleasure, really."

Alec nodded, unsure how, and not really wanting, to take his leave. Beyond a sense he owed Stephen more, he also _wanted_ to continue the connection with the kind, friendly and not unpleasant-looking fellow. "Well, thank you again, then," he shook Stephen's hand before slowly taking the steps. "Perhaps I'll run into you again the Tube… Well, not actually run into you, but…"

"Maybe," Stephen laughed back, not disagreeing, as he took a single, slow step back toward the main street.

Nodding, and thinking of nothing else really to say, Alec fished the key from his pocket and turned to the door.

"Alec?" Stephen called up suddenly, with nothing specific set to say, and despite his better judgement not to prolong what needed to wrap up.

He turned to look back, wondering and hoping for what else the new acquaintance might ask.

Stephen hesitated, opened his mouth to speak, before simply nodding, smiling bashfully, and again wishing, "Good night."

"Good night," was the sincere and slightly disappointed reply.

Forcing himself to turn away and fiddle with the door, Alec heard a slight jingle behind him, as if a wind chime had danced briefly despite the complete lack of a breeze. Turning back to make one last repayment invitation, he found the street suddenly and entirely deserted; no sign of the just-there good Samaritan or of anyone else.

"That you, Allie? Everything alright?" a worried voice called him in from all the adventures, questions and regrets.

"Fine, mum." Just a strange end to a strange day, to say the least.

* * *

 _tbc..._


	3. Disconnected

_**Tomorrow People**_ **(1970s):**

 **Remember**

by Mirwalker

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Disconnected**

Like every morning, Alec was up before his parents, and on the way to be among the first in the office. This gave the eager journalist-to-be the opportunity both to maintain connections with the overnight crew, and to have a few things ready for the day shift—twice the good impressions.

The extra-long days were tiring, if good career investments; but by Friday, the week's exertions added up into the hardest morning. Today was even harder, as his leg still bothered him a little; and he'd not slept well at all, having dreamt about the oddest things-a flying bull, fish people, and a young man who was as kind as he was handsome. Alec blushed hard at the last admission; such feelings were problematic, beyond distracting him from focusing on his work goals. And it wasn't like he'd likely ever see Stephen again...

Still thinking about the odd incident, and the strangely helpful—and disappearing—rescuer, he stepped up to the kiosk for his morning pleasure reads.

"Is that all for you today, sir?" Mrs Olsin eyed his stack with a pleasant enough smile, as he handed her some change.

"As always," Alec reminded lightly, a little taken aback at her mild greeting and unusual question.

"Oh, are you new to the neighbourhood?" she smiled. "We'll learn your regulars soon enough if so. Welcome; and you have yourself a good day."

Alec just stared in surprise at her apparent lack of recognition, at least until the next customers "pardon"'d past him to make their own purchases. He certainly didn't have the years some locals did, simply because of his youth. But the newsagent and her husband had known him for a decade longer than his visits as a customer in his own right. Troubled by this break in routine, he didn't bother with his tabloids during the Metro ride. Yesterday's pavement accident; Stephen's kindness; bizarre dreams; and now this…

He felt much better when the gate warden at work recognized him, of course; and waved him in to the still quiet corridors of the newspaper's headquarters. A few straggling graveyarders nodded to him; and Alec was gradually distracted by the day's work as everyone else trickled in. Like every day, the office everyman made his repeated rounds, ferrying messages, proofs, research requests, approvals, and the morning post. Blessed normalcy had returned.

* * *

"Morning John. Morning, TIM."

"Good morning, Stephen," a pulse of lights around the Lab acknowledged.

"Shouldn't you be at school?" said the man at the table, less brightly.

"All school assembly today," Stephen explained, unsurprised, "so the schedules are all off. I took advantage of an early lunch period to jaunt over. What are you up to?" He gestured to the variety of scientific equipment scattered across the space.

"As soon as we've confirmed the megotaur business is wrapped up, TIM and I will be looking into this mnemonophage from the Federation. It could be very useful if it works."

"Was there more trouble from her?" Stephen asked, poking at some apparatus near him.

John got up and saved it from him, explaining, "No, thankfully. Seems she _was_ just a rebellious juvenile, who happened to be from a civilization who've long had interstellar travel technology. She created enough havoc by being here; but it seems her only real crime was violating Earth's closed world status. Given her youth and lack of any real damage, Agent Flill says facing her very _unhappy_ herd elders will likely be the worst for her."

Stephen shrugged happily. "Not every alien incursion is malicious, but they aren't all friendly either. Lucky there's us!"

"Indeed," TIM chimed in.

"That doesn't mean it's not exciting, or memorable," Stephen moved to another set of delicate instruments. "I dreamt about it all last night: flying bull, fish people… I guess we'll never truly get used to it all."

"I've been at it a little longer than you; and it still amazes me too. I even had some similar dreams."

"Mike stopped in on his way to school," TIM shared. "He too mentioned dreams about your escapades. And he used exactly the same terms to describe them."

"Is it strange we all dreamt about it?"

"Not necessarily," assured John, with a look of concern nonetheless on his face. "But I would have used precisely the same description for mine…" He waved Stephen over to a place at the table, placing his open hands on it. " _Elizabeth? Do you have a moment?_ "

Silently and from her classroom miles away, she responded almost immediately. " _Hello, John; I do. What's going on?_ "

" _Stephen and I were just comparing dreams last night… Did you by chance have any memorable ones?_ "

" _I did, as a matter of fact. Flying bulls and…_ "

" _…Fish people_ ," Stephen finished for her, with the same astonished look as John. " _That's us all, word for word._ "

" _Did either of your dreams include the Sap… Alec?_ " John continued the investigation.

Stephen blushed as Elizabeth confirmed, " _It did, actually. He and Stephen, calling out to one another. Poor fellow; he was terrified by it all._ "

" _While I did not, and cannot, dream, as you do_ ," TIM interjected, " _I also registered exchanges between Stephen and Alec overnight. I had presumed them unintentional telepathic projections of your dreams._ "

Stephen blushed again. Hopefully the table lights masked it.

John reasoned through the apparent puzzle pieces. " _So we all had similar dreams: not unusual given yesterday's excitement. That they were identical, and TIM was privy as well: that means we were sharing them telepathically. Again, not unheard of. But when has that level of convergence typically happened before? Especially featuring someone not already a Tomorrow Person?_ "

" _Are you suggesting that Alec wasn't just a Sap? That he wasn't just in our shared dream, but was participating as well?_ " Stephen simultaneously exclaimed, worried and hoped.

" _You did also indicate that he mentioned seeing you speak without moving your lips…,_ " TIM reminded.

" _If that's true, we need to find him,_ " Elizabeth picked up the implications. " _Never mind Flill's memory virus not working on him; we have to help him break out!_ "

That surprise possibility and urgent purpose hung heavily among them for a moment. John worried about what Alec might be remembering, and sharing. Elizabeth worried about the pain and confusion he might be experiencing. And Stephen also wondered what this meant for reconnecting.

" _We need to be sure either way_ ," John concluded on all their behalf. " _TIM, can you check whatever records and reports you can?_ "

" _Of course. Though with only a first name to go on, it may be difficult to sort through the available_ _information_ _._ "

" _John, the bell's just rung here,_ " Elizabeth sighed. " _I have to go; and Stephen should get back as well. Let me know what I can do, and keep us updated?_ "

" _We will,_ " John promised, breaking the link and focusing on those in the Lab with him. "Stephen, you spent the most time with him. Before you go, is there anything else you recall that could help us find him?"

"This is more important than composition class," Stephen dismissed, heading toward the jaunt pad. "I can start at his house, to see if he's there or what his parents might be able to share."

"School is important too," John corrected. "I'm older, and look it. Give me the address; and I'll stop by, as an… Underground rep, checking on a reported injury." Seeing Stephen ready to protest the return to school, if not also missing the quest, John insisted, "I know it's important, but let's not pull out all the stops just yet. I'll send for you all, or let you know what I find as quickly as possible."

Not liking the logic, or wanting to seem overeager for the wrong reasons, Stephen could only sigh and nod. John hadn't shown much concern for Alec yesterday; but he would raise less questions with any parents, and so perhaps gather better answers. For Alec's sake.

* * *

" _Stephen?_ " the voice called out silently just over an hour later.

" _Yes, John?_ " he answered, continuing to pretend attempts as his maths.

" _I've just visited the address you gave me for Alec. Only, the woman who answered the door denies she and her husband have a son at all..._ "

* * *

A little before midday, Alec was at his back corner counter, humming softly to himself and sorting the next round of deliveries.

"Excuse me, sir," the gruff, familiar voice interrupted.

"Hello, Davies," he turned to the warden with a smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Sir," the slightly surprised security officer continued. "I don't know how you know me, or what you think you're doing here. But you need to come with me, please."

"'Doing here?' I work here," Alec pointed to the nameplate at the end of the counter, and in doing so, caught the worried looks of more than a couple of reporters and editors who were watching the scene. "It's me, Alec. Alec Robinson. I'm the newsroom clerk; a runner."

With a patronizing nod, and two other uniformed men entering from the far end of the room, the officer he'd received a pastry-grateful handshake from just hours before, waved him toward the hallway. "As I said, we'll discuss it when you come with me. Step this way, please." It was clear he was not asking.

It also seemed that he wasn't joking, as Alec spent the next hour trying to justify his identity and presence to a series of fellow employees he'd known for his full three years at the newspaper. Those he worked most closely with denied knowing him at all, and couldn't explain his intimate knowledge of their projects or tastes in pastries. Less regular colleagues seemed confused by others' confusion. And officials he'd not seen more than occasionally, bickered with the others over his name, role, and eventually, the veracity of the employment records they'd pulled.

Torn between exasperation and irritation, Alec accused them variously of joking, being cruel, or even outright lying as the farce continued. He listed details and named names that only he could know. He repeatedly provided identification and appealed to shared antics, in and beyond the office—even at school for one near peer.

But the confusion among various company officials only seemed to shift more against him as it continued. Eventually, he was asked to confirm his home contact information, allowed to collect his bag, and then was escorted to the street, not to return "until they'd sorted it out."

He stood on the pavement for several minutes, clutching his bag as if it were his only connection to reality, until the wardens came out and shooed him away entirely. Unlike his disbelieving feet, his mind raced with the growing catalog of recent odd and unlikely occurrences: his unusual injury and reaction to it; a kind stranger; strange dreams; unrecognized by a family friend this morning; and now denied by those he spent the most time with each week.

With no chance of the kind stranger's appearing in this moment of need, Alec pushed through the stupor of all the emotions, and staggered instinctively for the comfort of home.

* * *

Before John could do more than let the others know he'd arrived and entered, Alec stumbled back out of the door followed by an older, flailing man. "'My son!' As if, you burgling git! I don't know how you got in, but you can trying explaining to the coppers who are on their way."

"But I _am_ your son!" Alec protested, stunned and near tears with anger. "Your given name is Harold; you were born in Croydon in 1923…"

The door slammed shut in simple, final reply.

" _Something's the matter!_ " John reported urgently to the group, having already started across the street to call on the target of his surveillance. " _He's come right back out, with the father shouting after him._ " "Alec?" he called aloud to the man who was wringing his hands and spinning in a slow circle, aghast, in the street. "Alec Robinson!"

Startled and exhausted, Alec turned toward the source of the hail. His expression changed immediately as he recognized the approaching man. "You! You were there. In the dream. With the bull… the minotaur! Who are you? What's going on?" He clutched his head, and seemed to repeat the charges and questions in his head. " _Who are you? What is happening to me?_ "

Afraid for both a scene and the young man's fragile telepathic state, John rushed toward him, hoping an in-kind answer might break through the obvious confusion and distress. " _I'm John. I know you have questions; I'm here to help._ "

But Alec only whimpered, "In my head…," and dropped to his knees.

"Alec…" John repeated aloud as he squatted and reached out.

But with a shout, splay of lights and an accompanying jingle, Alec vanished.


	4. Re-collecting

_**Tomorrow People**_ **(1970s):**

 **Remember**

by Mirwalker

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Re-collected**

" _John, what's happened?"_ Stephen worried loudly, sensing something significant had changed.

" _He's gone! Jaunted…"_

 _"Where?!"_ Elizabeth wondered to the group, hoping it was only just beyond the screaming father's reach.

 _"I don't know. I don't think he meant to. Just frightened, like when you were breaking out."_

 _"We have to find him,"_ Stephen insisted. _"He won't understand what's happened…"_

 _"We will… Mike, can you meet me at the Lab? We'll have TIM compute the hyperspace coordinates that correspond to the street here, in case he only made half a jump, and check there in AE suits. Elizabeth, in case he didn't repeat that part of your first jump, can you and Stephen take over the watch here? He could only have gone a short distance without a belt's boost; and neither of you is likely to startle him into jaunting again."_ An older Tomorrow Person with a younger one also balanced each pair, in case there was drama to their rescue.

 _"On my way,"_ Mike added chipperly, happy for the break from the day's usual, boring obligations. _"At least we know for sure he's one of us!"_

* * *

"Shame Tyso's moved out of country; we could use every bit of help checking hyper and real-space…," Mike lamented shortly thereafter, as he and John drifted attentively in the swirling nothingness.

"True; but you can hardly blame him for wanting to stay with his family," John reminded, checking the equipment for any sign of their missing Person, beyond the absence of visible evidence. "And, if we can reach Alec in time, we'll be back to our fullest numbers yet."

"If…"

* * *

" _No sign of him in hyperspace,"_ they reported to the team a few minutes later. _"Any luck there?"_

 _"No,"_ Elizabeth lamented, from her vantage point at the corner. _"He didn't jaunt back here from wherever he went. And no reaction from the constables at the house; so I don't think he jumped inside. Stephen?"_

* * *

Finishing a slightly wider loop of the block, Stephen paced urgently, eyes, ears and other senses sweeping the area around him. He sighed, _"Nothing. But I can still sense his anxiety, his fear; he can't have gone far."_

As the others silently brainstormed about other search options and destination explanations, Stephen focused on feelings—his own and those around him. While telepathic senses didn't work quite the same way as physical ones, he was certain that Alec wasn't far away. Beyond knowing every Tomorrow Person's innate jaunt ability was limited without technological help, his head and heart had grown heavier with confusion, fear and sadness after he and Elizabeth arrived at the scene of the confrontation and disappearance; Alec was definitely nearby.

Stephen wanted to reach out with his own mind, to call out to and reassure Alec; but he worried that any additional stress or stimulus, especially disembodied voices calling his name, would only make things worse for their hopefully newest arrival. No, he needed to reach Alec physically, and soon.

Coming around the corner, the newsagent up the block caught his eye. They'd stopped there the night before, for the papers Alec always bought for his father. _Always bought… A habit: familiar, easy, comforting!_ he thought to himself, jogging and then sprinting to the kiosk.

Reaching and circling it, he found no sign of their jauntaway, and no relief for the shared anguish. Growing frustrated in his own right, Stephen paused, took a deep breath, relaxed his body, and tried not to concentrate on his lack of success. Instead, he opened himself to everything around him, slowly shutting out things he knew weren't helpful: traffic noise, passers-by, the smell of curry and diesel. Focusing instead on the broadcast feelings, he leaned into them and where the universal, and yet very individualized emotions might lead him. _If I were scared or startled, I'd jaunt someplace that instinctively came to mind as safe, or at least safer. If home wasn't safe for you, Alec, where is the_ next _nearest spot you'd connect with being protected, feeling taken care of?_

Turning in place, Stephen considered possibilities. The newsagent wasn't it. Work was too far. Could be mates; but there was no way to know who or where they'd be. Same for church, an old school or favorite food shops.

As he broadened his thought and reach, Stephen noticed an outflow of people from the Tube stop farther up the street. That's where he and Alec had met, less than a day before. Where they'd made initial, awkward eye contact after their run in. Where he'd saved Alec from being trampled, but not quite from being stabbed—not that their breakout boy would remember all that. _Unless…!_ If they'd all dreamt of flying bulls and fish people—megotaurs and the gilled Federation agents, then Alec had at least dreamt them too, if not actually remembered. If he was a Tomorrow Person, the Federation memory wipe wouldn't have worked; he might remember some or all of the evening before! And he surely remembered Stephen's seeing him home afterwards.

 _If Alec's mind had jumped him to a recent safe place, might he consider that moment, our meeting such as place? Had I been his go-to when distressed? Had I really made that kind of impression and connection with him?_

Torn between doubt and hope, and with more than a little blush at his presumptive impression-making qualities, Stephen ran down the street, slowing only as he approached the fateful alley. Taking a breath and turning the corner from the main street, he initially saw nothing. But then, a wave of fresh emotions washed over him, and a faint sniffle echoed up the narrow space.

Stepping carefully into the labyrinth's mouth, he called aloud, "Alec? It's Stephen. Are you here? Alec? I've come to help…" The sound of stuttered breathing and whispered words grew louder, as he passed a doorway, a dumpster, and neared a pile of boxes and waste bins. Moving carefully, he peeked around a crate.

In the small opening behind the wooden stack, Alec huddled with his knees clasped tight to his chest, as he mumbling repeatedly, "Must wake up. I just need to wake up…"

"Alec?" Stephen whispered,

"Not here. Not real," Alec whispered, shaking his head in both disbelief and a desperate effort to shake himself awake. "Just to need to wake up. Why can't I just wake up?"

Stephen dared not call for the others, lest the telepathic message, or the likely flood of eager responses, push Alec further away. Instead, he narrated his slowly taking a seat beside the struggling new friend. "Alec, I'm real; I'm really here; and I'm going to sit down beside you, if that's alright. That's it..."

Alec only buried his header deeper into his fortress of limbs.

Despite his also very real concern, Stephen spoke calmly and warmly. "I know you're confused, frightened. The dreams, the voices. I've been there myself; and I'd like to help, if you'll let me. Will you look at me, please?"

Recalling his own breaking out, and the onslaught of input that ultimately knocked him out in the middle of a crowded street, Stephen knew to be gentle and careful. However well-intended, every effort he made was just that much more stimulus Alec had to cope with; and so he tried to add less pressure, and more invitation. He opened up his mind, and focused on his desire to help, sharing his concern and his hope.

When the new manifestation didn't bother him beyond seeming friendly, Alec slowly, haltingly lifted his head and turned to see if Stephen was indeed more than a figment. His eyes were swollen and wet, from both strain of squeezing them tightly shut, and weeping against that unsuccessful attempt to block out the day's experiences. But, his grimace lightened ever so slightly, as he found Stephen actually there, and concerned. Cautiously, he reached out one finger, and poked the apparition on the solid knee. Then his arm. Then his cheek.

When Stephen smiled more at each confirmation, Alec took Stephen's hand—almost overwhelming the veteran telepath with a fresh level of shared desperation—and placed it on his own forehead. Affirmed by the touch and the hope it suggested, Alec plead for more assistance, "Please make it stop. Like you did yesterday. Help me again?" It was clear he remembered more than just the adventure and injury, and more than just a helpful stranger after the fact.

Unable to block or fix this unphysical agony, Stephen resisted pulling away from the buffeting emotions. His positive intent not seeming enough for the scared man, he wasn't sure how else to help. "You're not dreaming, Alec. Not now and not then. Please let me help, let me explain…"

But Alec clutched at him more urgently; his concerns rolled out like tears, "They've all forgotten me—mum, dad, work, mates. The dream seemed so real—and you were there. And the voices in my head… And now I just appeared here. I'm going mad!"

Stephen finally wrestled back his hand, and took Alec's instead. "I know it's a lot; too much even. But I need you to take a breath, and listen to me. Can you do that for me?" He pushed calming thoughts more actively now, also modeling a slow in-and-out of deep breaths. "I know you can feel me here," he squeezed gently. "Can you sense me too; can you tell I am here to help?"

Alec sniffled and nodded, finally taking some real relief that this assistance was more than just his own projected hope and need.

"What's happening to you, it's called 'breaking out,'" Stephen began to explain. "It's a sign that you're one of a new, rare and very special type of person. We're called Tomorrow People."

Alec looked at him skeptically, this intervention quickly turning back to the absurd. But he didn't pull away.

Sensing and seeing the doubt, Stephen dared a little more evidence, with a smile. "I know it sounds ridiculous; but it's true. I'll show you. You ask me a question, and I'll answer without speaking a word out loud."

Alec's brow ruffled at the odd instruction. But while still not well, he did feel better for Stephen's arrival and concern. "What do you want me to ask?"

 _"Anything you like,"_ Stephen answered. Only, his closed mouth didn't move.

"How'd you do that?!" Alec started, both disbelieving and excited.

" _It's called telepathy. You can do it too, with some training,"_ Stephen nodded silently. _"We can also move things without touching them, and jaunt—teleport—from place to place. Just like you did earlier."_

Alec began to shake his head again, to pull away; but Stephen held firm and spoke aloud. "I know it's hard to take in; but it's all true. We can help. We're the next step in human evolution; and you're one of us."

* * *

"It's such a relief to know I wasn't imagining all of it," Alec sighed, as he finished an overdue and much needed lunch, devoured while his new friends provided a more in-depth introduction to their small circle. Despite having seen the meal's similar arrival, he nonetheless jumped again when the plates and drinks before them vanished.

"In time, you'll get used to it, and to TIM's cooking," Stephen laughed beside him, with an encouraging pat to the shoulder.

"My culinary productions are gastronomically perfect," the bio computer huffed, as the others chuckled.

"And it's great fun for taking the piss out of mates!" Mike laughed.

"Despite Mike's prankster enthusiasm," John reminded, "it's really best _not_ to use your abilities where the Saps might see. Beyond frightening them, it draws attention…"

"And that attention is typically not healthy for us, unfortunately," Elizabeth added.

Alec nodded his at least initial understanding of the consequences, even as the advice reminded him, "Not that my mates would recognize me, or remember I'd done it…"

" _That_ is not usually part of the breaking out process; and was _not_ supposed to happen with the memory wipe," John worried aloud. "From what you've described, it seemed to work at first; but, because you weren't actually a Sap, it didn't stick. Perhaps your being on the cusp of breaking out had some additional effect on it as well, impacting the Saps around you instead. TIM and I will run some tests, and contact the Trig…" He headed to gather some scanning equipment.

"What about my parents?" Alec turned his attention from his own situation, with a worried tone and look. "They claim not to know me, and had police on scene. What they must be going through…"

Stephen set his hand on Alec's shoulder, as he shared a concerned look with Elizabeth.

In full school teacher form, she nodded and affirmed, "Everyone will certainly be confused. But I'm sure we'll be able to sort it out once we understand more about what's happened. And we'll keep an eye on them in the meanwhile."

"Thank you. All of you," Alec shared genuinely. "I can't say I fully get it all, but I'm much better than earlier. Perhaps with a little time and rest… But," he realized with newfound distress, "I can't very well go home now, can I?

"You're welcome to stay here at the Lab," Mike invited, "We all have at various times. You should try TIM's late night biscuits and breakfast soufflés …"

"There are some new omelet recipes I have been wanting to try," the lights pulsed with some anticipation.

Mike shook his head ever so slightly, with a grin and mischievous eyes.

For all the offered hospitality, Stephen could sense Alec was quite hesitant to be left alone with his new reality, especially in the literal hub of that strange world, even if he was more hesitant to admit that further fear to his new friends. "You're welcome to crash at my place, if you'd rather," he leaned in to offer. "We can tell my folks you're a mate from school whose flat's lost water or something. They'd be happy to have you; and my mom's cooking's not half bad either."

Seeing both boys' faces lighten at the suggestion, Elizabeth further recommended, "Not that you'd need to keep on it; but you'd have Stephen handy to answer more questions. We can all reconnect tomorrow, and pick take it from there." She didn't share that it would also keep one of them in close contact should he have any more breaking out outbreaks.

Alec smiled and nodded, relieved and excited for the chance not to be alone with all the new changes and challenges.

Stephen smiled back, "It's set then! If you're knackered, let's head on. Though I should warn you, my mum will expect you to eat a full dinner, no matter you've just had lunch…"

* * *

"Good night, Mike. We'll see you in the morning." He twinkled away on the jaunt pad, as Elizabeth gathered her things in that direction.

"John, Elizabeth?"

"Yes, TIM?" she acknowledged, glancing at John who'd also detected the concern in their colleague's tone.

"I hadn't wanted to agitate our younger friends, or add to Alec's distress; but his concern about his parents is quite justified. I have been monitoring relevant police radio traffic, among other official sources… As we all knew, the Robinsons reported an intruder claiming to be their son, which they deny."

"And?" John pressed.

"On interviewing them and searching the house, the constables found an upperfloor bedroom clearly belonging to a young man, as well as numerous photos and documents throughout the house confirming Alec's existence and relation."

It was now John's turn to glance at Elizabeth worriedly.

"Given the clear contradictions," TIM continued, "the Robinsons have been taken into custody for psychiatric examination. And the police have begun a manhunt for Alec; they are treating his parents' strange behavior and his absence as… criminally suspicious."


	5. In Shared Fashion

_**Tomorrow People**_ **(1970s):**

 **Remember**

by Mirwalker

* * *

 **Chapter 4: In Shared Fashion**

"It fits rather well, actually!" Stephen grinned as Alec returned wearing an assortment of clothes his host had recently outgrown. "Good thing mum kept it all."

Alec squirmed within the shirt and trousers whose owner had moved on faster than had fashion. "She says you've had such the growth spurt that she's not had time to get rid of anything... Can I expect to add some inches, now that I'm breaking out?"

"Any late-blossoming height will be all you, I'm afraid," Stephen shook his head.

Alec shrugged, smiled wearily, and perched on the far of end of the bed. He looked exhausted. And deep in thought. And anxious.

"It's overwhelming," Stephen suggested, knowingly.

His guest sighed and shook his head, "And exciting, and scary, and…"

"That's all perfectly normal, especially as you've had a harder-than-most time of it already. Not everyone gets charged by a megotaur on their big day!"

"Or loses their jobs and home and families, and who knows what next…," Alec stood to occupy himself by picking through the pile of other loaner clothes on the chair by the door.

"I didn't mean to make light," Stephen offered apologetically, silently berating himself for having appeared to. "I know it looks grim; and it's unusual, even by our standards. But I'm sure it's only a matter of time before we figure it out ,and can put it right for you. John and TIM are a powerful combination. And with the resources of the Galactic Federation…" He trailed off on seeing Alec darken at the mention of the agency whose spray seemed to have started it all. "I'm sorry."

"It's not you," Alec assured with honest dejection. "You're wonderful—You've _all_ been wonderful. I just… Even the good, the _amazing_ new things of the past day…" He sighed again, willing himself not to give in to any of this beginning's bountiful burdens. _Focus on the positive!_ "If not super-human stature, are there any other surprises I should prepare for?"

"Physically, no," Stephen assured, anguished at being able to do little more than witness the new friend's struggle. "Just the basic powers we told you about before, and seeing whether you have any unique variation, by type or strength." He'd save stories of other aliens, time periods, and worlds for later sharing.

"What do you mean?"

Stephen waved him back over to the bed. "Well, as we mentioned, we _all_ have the 'Three Ts': telepathy, teleportation and telekinesis. But there's some variation amongst us too. John's the strongest jaunter, which we thought might just be because he's been broken out the longest. But Mike's our newest, save you; and he's got a knack for moving things with his mind—locks especially—that beats us all. So, a power's strength doesn't necessarily come from age or time."

"And you?" Alec wondered of his host, almost hesitantly. "What's _your_ special talent?"

Stephen brightened as he realized he could demonstrate, beyond explaining, his gift. "Mum also noticed your limp, which reminded me I'd never finished healing your leg. May I?" He patted his lap, asking for a second go at the injured leg.

With the injured limb pointed out, Alec realised he'd almost forgotten that other tangible reminder he carried from his introduction to this new life. Feeling the smallest part owed at least this for his new troubles, he was much more curious to learn what and how it worked. So, he gently swung the patient up as requested, carefully hitched up his trouser leg, and more nervously leaned back on his elbows.

"This may tingle a bit," Stephen warned with a nonetheless encouraging look, before holding one hand out over the remaining wound. As mesmerizing lights played out between palm and calf, Stephen narrated with a bit of grin, "We've learnt that I'm naturally strongest at this version of telekinesis. But I have been reading on basic medical texts, just to be sure I'm doing it all right."

Alec shifted suddenly.

"What! Did I hurt you?" Stephen worried, wide-eyed and hands up, having just talked up his skill and study.

'No. No. It feels really… nice, comfortable, actually," Alex reassured. "Just a little strange—as overused as that word's quickly become. Please, don't stop."

Watching that his re-starting didn't cause any unpleasant reaction, Stephen continued his explanation, "We've wondered whether other powers might appear with additional break-outs, or as we grow in numbers. We'll have to see what your strengths are… How's that?"

"Something positive to look forward to, I suppose," Alec sighed hopefully.

"True, but I meant the leg."

"Oh, good, I think," he stretched and twisted it in place, to confirm it felt and worked as well as it now looked. "Once again, you've done me good."

The tele-doctor patted his handiwork as he regretted, "I'm sorry again it's all I can do…"

"Stephen," Alec interrupted, feeling better for the mental ministrations, and thus all the more over his helper's self-deprecation. "Is one of our abilities to feel one another's emotions?"

"Oh. Yes, to some degree. General sense of mood, I suppose; and we do clearly project distress—fear or pain, probably naturally."

"But can _you_ feel how _I'm_ feeling, like right here and now?" Alec persisted.

"Um, well, let's see…" Stephen closed his eyes and tried to clear his own thoughts and fluster.

Recalling what Stephen had told him to do earlier in the day, squatting together in an alley, Alec followed the seemingly simple instructions: _Imagine your mind is like a big fist, clenched tight. Now imagine it opening, slowly, like a flower._ (1)

Stephen concentrated on sensing Alec beyond the physical warmth under his hand. He reached out beyond himself, more easily than he had that afternoon, given less distress and a better prepared target. And so, he quickly found and shared a parade of emotions: _Amusement. Calm. Nervousness. Excitement._

While not visual, the sensations were like a wash of colors, or perhaps temperatures; he'd never found a good way to describe the telepathic experience in mere words. _Fear. Curiosity. Connection._

The wash of feelings became peppered with a… shared memory, replaying like a movie scene on loop: Walking in a crowd. _Annoyance._ Being bumped, again. _Really?!_ Looking up, and catching the eye of… another young man.

It took a moment for Stephen to recognise himself, mouthing "Sorry!" with a lingering look back as he was swallowed up by the crowd.

"Why did you turn and look at me," Alec's current, spoken question shattered his search, "if you were busy chasing an alien?"

Stephen opened his eyes, to see the memory owner looking down to where his hand still rested on the repaired leg. Understanding the physical bond had likely made the direct memory share so vivid, much less possible, he pulled away, and blurted, "Well, I _was_ sorry I'd bumped into you—into anyone. And then, on seeing you, well…, I _wasn't_ so sorry…"

Surprised and shocked by his own admission, Stephen also realised a motivation, an… interest that underlay the memory. "But you followed because of me. Not just journalistic inquiry; but because you were curious about _me_." Any other implications of their mutuality gave way to an unshared, overwhelming guilt, as he added his own extension to the causal chain. "Which means it's my fault you were injured, that everything's gone sideways for you!"

Sitting forward, Alec grabbed the clenched hands, "Stephen! I asked to you to check my feelings because I wanted you to sense that, for everything that's happened, I'm actually, strangely OK." He shook his anxious host until they made eye contact. "I have a _lot_ of questions, and many matching concerns. But despite all that, I'm remarkably good. _Thanks_ to you. You saved me from the megotaur's charge, patched me up, saw me home, found me again at my lowest, and now have taken me in tonight. John said I would have broken out sooner or later anyhow, and perhaps not have connected with you all so quickly, and so suffered more…"

He placed his other hand on Stephen's shoulder, hoping the tactile bridge would help land his message. "I don't know whether telepaths end up sharing everything, or if we can actually even keep secrets from one another. But whilst I sort it all out, and lest you keep beating yourself up over what you can't do, please know I don't blame you; I'm grateful. For your help. For your appearance yesterday. For _you_. Please feel that?"

Stephen had never seen a truer smile, or felt a stronger truth. It washed away his guilt, assuaged any worry over whether he should have cared about that random street run-in, and recommitted him to making things right for this newest person in his world.

"I do," he nodded back, with a mutual confidence. "Thank you. For that, and for trusting us—trusting me through all this."

The mutual appreciation hung between them, reinforced by touch, smile, gaze, and more.

Finally, Stephen inhaled and gave Alec's legs a friendly shake. "I also sensed a deep, understandable exhaustion, and don't think it's all mine… How about we get some sleep?"

* * *

None of the Tomorrow family slept particularly well that night, as the untrained Alec couldn't help but broadcast his restless dreams—nightmares really. Flying fish people. Swirling, colored globes. A charging minotaur. Smiling strangers. Jostling security officers. Silent reassurances. A screaming father. A welcoming mother. The shock of suddenly changed locations. A warm touch, and eased pain. And scattered through them all, recurring flashes of the same, soothing face.

Awake himself, and sensing the others soon would be, Stephen rolled over, reached out, and found Alec's shoulder. Giving it a quick squeeze and resting his hand there, he smiled and pushed good thoughts through the physical connection.

Alec settled almost immediately, and remained so through the night, as the both relished the shared contact and confidence.

* * *

In the morning, Stephen remained hospitable, letting his guest go first at morning's preparations. Brushing his own teeth to follow Alec down to breakfast, he was struck by a sudden wave of fear and dread. And Alec's voice called out to him silently, _"Stephen!"_

Starting down the stairs immediately, he was met by his mother wearing a very stern look. Glancing to the dining room, she whispered, "Obviously, I'm pleased you've a friend your own age, and am happy to help while his family's having trouble. But you really _must_ tell me when you've invited someone over, if not ask beforehand… I nearly had a heart attack when a strange young man marched into my kitchen wearing your clothes."

* * *

 **NOTES**

1\. Variation on Carol's hospital bedside guidance to Stephen when he was breaking out.


End file.
